k well this is like my first kinda story. i wrote it for a competition. and its kinda um a biography of me...
For 1 year I thought I had 4 of the best friends. There names are Ana, Mia, Dee and Si. Friends I thought were going to stick by me. Friends I thought would last. Friends I thought I could count on. Boy was I wrong.
When I first met them I was going through a hard time. I thought they were helping get control. I thought they were helping me get happy. I thought they were helping me get what I wanted.
Instead, it was the four of them who were getting what they wanted. They were feeding me lies. Lies that I wanted to believe regardless of what anyone else told me. I thought if I believed what they said, did what they told me to do, and then Id be happy. Then and only then would I have real control. Id be perfect.
It was those reckless friends of mine who manipulated my thoughts and feelings when I was weak. What I was doing, what I was feeling was what they wanted. I thought they were the only way to live. I thought they were helping me become the person I wanted to be. They werent real people. They were inside me. In my head.
Ana was the Anorexia telling me the lies. I thought I was fat. I thought I was ugly. I thought I wasnt good enough. I thought that the only way to get perfect was to get thin. And the only way to get thin was by not eating. Learning to say no to food. I also knew I had to do lots of exercise. Every spare minute I had I spent in physical exercise running around, doing crunches, doing star jumps, burning the fat.
I looked in the mirror, pinching all the fat all over my body. I deeply wished I could grab a knife and cut it all out.
Inside the magazines were pictures of thin models. Thin actresses. Everyone was thin and beautiful. Beautiful because they were thin. The tears rolled down my cheeks slowly as I envied how pretty they looked. How perfect I thought they were.
A sharp pain stabbed me in the stomach. I bent over wishing it would go away. I knew I needed food but I couldnt give in yet, I wouldnt give in yet.
23 24 25 slowly and painfully I made my way to 50 crunches. Afterwards, I did half an hour on the exercise bike.
I was starving for perfection. I was dying to be thin. But I had to lose weight. There was always Mia if I gave in
Mia was the Bulimia that I could count on if I did give in. I could always count on Mia if I gave in. If I ate something she was there to help me bring it back up again. Whenever I did eat something I always filled up with guilt and shame. Guilt because Id given in. Shame because I let Ana down. Here Ana was helping me get thin and there I go throwing it all away. At least mia stopped me from gaining weight.
There was this one time, I was so angry with dad. I couldnt believe what he was saying to me. It hurt, an emotional pain raced through my mind. It was an instantaneous reaction. Without thinking I went to the fridge and opened it. The first thing that caught my eye was the king size mars bar sitting in front of the iced coffee. My hands reached out and I grabbed the two of them. I opened the chocolate and ate it all. I opened the bottle and drank it all too.
The sudden realisation of what I had done came when I could feel my binge. I had to get rid of it. Quickly I ran to the bathroom. I leant over the toilet. I put my 2 fingers in and kept pushing deeper and deeper. Suddenly I felt the binge come out. Out the mouth it went and in the toilet it ended up. I felt much better as I flushed my guilt away, bulimia was my friend too.
The one thing that kept me from being happy was Dee. She was the Depression that told me other lies. She made me believe that I was hopeless. That I was useless. I thought I was nothing. There were times I believed I should give up. Sure Dee doesnt sound like a good friend but I got used to her. It was normal for me to be depressed all the time. Normal wanting to die every other day. What I didnt realise with her was that by trying to kill that pain I was actually bringing more.
The alarm went off and I slowly opened my eyes. Every day was getting much harder to get out of bed. I sat up and looked around my room. I just couldnt face today. I just couldnt. I saw on my desk a box of tablets. It was open and I remembered I took a handful the night before to try to end my life. I started crying as it struck me that it didnt work. I really was hopeless. I took the rest and went back into bed. I lay there wishing I could die in my sleep. Close my eyes and never open them again.
Ill always be reminded of Si. The scars on my arms will always be there from the times he and I would pull out the blade. Si was there when I needed to punish myself. And when I felt angry or when Dee would influence my thoughts, when everything was too much. If I ever got that way I knew I could just pick up something sharp and watch my troubles flow away.
I had to get rid of this pain somehow. I had to cut. I got my knife and brought it to my wrist. Slowly I made a cut. I kept on cutting and making the cut bigger. The blood started to pour out. As I got deeper and deeper the real pain got unbearable. My eyes stared to fill with tears. I cleaned my wrist and covered it so no one could see. I walked away thinking I had left my hurt and pain in the tissue. I felt better as id cut away the pain. Self injury was my most dangerous friend.
For a long time I knew there was something wrong. I knew it wasnt exactly normal.
I watched my friends as they ate their lunch. They all seemed to be enjoying it, talking and laughing. No one checked the calories. No on looked worried. They ate every bite. I sat there waiting to see if they were going to run to the toilets. No one did.
Going to the movies was always fun with friends. That night I stood there and realised I was the only one with a long-sleeved top on even thought it was warm. I casually looked at everyone elses arms. No one else had scars on them like I did. I started to wonder if I was the only. The only abnormal one. After all, cutting isnt exactly considered a normal thing is it?
But I wasnt ready to admit to everyone that they were right and I was wrong. That I did need help. I was scared of people turning on me if I told someone. I was scared of taking off the mask and revealing the real me inside. I was scared of facing what was really going on at home. I didnt want to let my distractions go. As long as they were there I didnt have to focus on anything else. But the one day I finally told someone was one day Ill never forget.
I was out of breath as I got to school. Running to school really was a good thing. I put my bag near the classroom and went to get a sip of water from the bubblers. I leant down and took the tiniest sip. As I stood up straight I started to feel dizzy. I just ignored it and walked over to the steps. I was about to go down them when I heard someone calling my name. I turned around and felt like I falling backwards. I quickly grabbed hold of the rail to stop me from falling. Coming towards me was the school counsellor. A million thoughts raced through my head. I wondered what he wanted. He took me to his office and I sat in a chair opposite him. He looked me in the eye and asked How much more are you planning to lose?
That was the question. The question that really made me think. It was a question that brought more questions it made me wonder how he knew. This was supposed to be my secret. What if other people knew? How many other people knew? Who else knew? No one was supposed to know. It also made me wonder if I had lost enough. If I was still fat. If I had lost too much.
That was when that I realised that no matter how much I would lose it would never be enough. I would never achieve perfection. Never be that magic number on the scales. I would never be happy with the number. No matter how low it would get id never be happy with it. And Id never get control from a number that would just keep going lower.
It was then that I realised that those friends of mine maybe werent friends at all. It was then that I realised I had to eat. I had to stop throwing up. I had to stop cutting. None of it was getting me anywhere. Well, it was getting me somewhere; but that somewhere was the hospital.
As I see it, the thing to getting better is to take things slowly. Just one day at a time. There will be downs but there will also be ups. Nothing will happen overnight. It will take a long time but I just got to take it one day at a time.
Its been 64 days since Si left. 57 days since Mia left. Dee comes and goes. There are some days with her and some days without her. Ana is still here though. She still tells me lies. I try not to believe her. Its hard not to. But I have realised that they certainly arent the best games to play. Im ready now to stop playing them.
tell me what you guyz think...honestly!
For 1 year I thought I had 4 of the best friends. There names are Ana, Mia, Dee and Si. Friends I thought were going to stick by me. Friends I thought would last. Friends I thought I could count on. Boy was I wrong.
When I first met them I was going through a hard time. I thought they were helping get control. I thought they were helping me get happy. I thought they were helping me get what I wanted.
Instead, it was the four of them who were getting what they wanted. They were feeding me lies. Lies that I wanted to believe regardless of what anyone else told me. I thought if I believed what they said, did what they told me to do, and then Id be happy. Then and only then would I have real control. Id be perfect.
It was those reckless friends of mine who manipulated my thoughts and feelings when I was weak. What I was doing, what I was feeling was what they wanted. I thought they were the only way to live. I thought they were helping me become the person I wanted to be. They werent real people. They were inside me. In my head.
Ana was the Anorexia telling me the lies. I thought I was fat. I thought I was ugly. I thought I wasnt good enough. I thought that the only way to get perfect was to get thin. And the only way to get thin was by not eating. Learning to say no to food. I also knew I had to do lots of exercise. Every spare minute I had I spent in physical exercise running around, doing crunches, doing star jumps, burning the fat.
I looked in the mirror, pinching all the fat all over my body. I deeply wished I could grab a knife and cut it all out.
Inside the magazines were pictures of thin models. Thin actresses. Everyone was thin and beautiful. Beautiful because they were thin. The tears rolled down my cheeks slowly as I envied how pretty they looked. How perfect I thought they were.
A sharp pain stabbed me in the stomach. I bent over wishing it would go away. I knew I needed food but I couldnt give in yet, I wouldnt give in yet.
23 24 25 slowly and painfully I made my way to 50 crunches. Afterwards, I did half an hour on the exercise bike.
I was starving for perfection. I was dying to be thin. But I had to lose weight. There was always Mia if I gave in
Mia was the Bulimia that I could count on if I did give in. I could always count on Mia if I gave in. If I ate something she was there to help me bring it back up again. Whenever I did eat something I always filled up with guilt and shame. Guilt because Id given in. Shame because I let Ana down. Here Ana was helping me get thin and there I go throwing it all away. At least mia stopped me from gaining weight.
There was this one time, I was so angry with dad. I couldnt believe what he was saying to me. It hurt, an emotional pain raced through my mind. It was an instantaneous reaction. Without thinking I went to the fridge and opened it. The first thing that caught my eye was the king size mars bar sitting in front of the iced coffee. My hands reached out and I grabbed the two of them. I opened the chocolate and ate it all. I opened the bottle and drank it all too.
The sudden realisation of what I had done came when I could feel my binge. I had to get rid of it. Quickly I ran to the bathroom. I leant over the toilet. I put my 2 fingers in and kept pushing deeper and deeper. Suddenly I felt the binge come out. Out the mouth it went and in the toilet it ended up. I felt much better as I flushed my guilt away, bulimia was my friend too.
The one thing that kept me from being happy was Dee. She was the Depression that told me other lies. She made me believe that I was hopeless. That I was useless. I thought I was nothing. There were times I believed I should give up. Sure Dee doesnt sound like a good friend but I got used to her. It was normal for me to be depressed all the time. Normal wanting to die every other day. What I didnt realise with her was that by trying to kill that pain I was actually bringing more.
The alarm went off and I slowly opened my eyes. Every day was getting much harder to get out of bed. I sat up and looked around my room. I just couldnt face today. I just couldnt. I saw on my desk a box of tablets. It was open and I remembered I took a handful the night before to try to end my life. I started crying as it struck me that it didnt work. I really was hopeless. I took the rest and went back into bed. I lay there wishing I could die in my sleep. Close my eyes and never open them again.
Ill always be reminded of Si. The scars on my arms will always be there from the times he and I would pull out the blade. Si was there when I needed to punish myself. And when I felt angry or when Dee would influence my thoughts, when everything was too much. If I ever got that way I knew I could just pick up something sharp and watch my troubles flow away.
I had to get rid of this pain somehow. I had to cut. I got my knife and brought it to my wrist. Slowly I made a cut. I kept on cutting and making the cut bigger. The blood started to pour out. As I got deeper and deeper the real pain got unbearable. My eyes stared to fill with tears. I cleaned my wrist and covered it so no one could see. I walked away thinking I had left my hurt and pain in the tissue. I felt better as id cut away the pain. Self injury was my most dangerous friend.
For a long time I knew there was something wrong. I knew it wasnt exactly normal.
I watched my friends as they ate their lunch. They all seemed to be enjoying it, talking and laughing. No one checked the calories. No on looked worried. They ate every bite. I sat there waiting to see if they were going to run to the toilets. No one did.
Going to the movies was always fun with friends. That night I stood there and realised I was the only one with a long-sleeved top on even thought it was warm. I casually looked at everyone elses arms. No one else had scars on them like I did. I started to wonder if I was the only. The only abnormal one. After all, cutting isnt exactly considered a normal thing is it?
But I wasnt ready to admit to everyone that they were right and I was wrong. That I did need help. I was scared of people turning on me if I told someone. I was scared of taking off the mask and revealing the real me inside. I was scared of facing what was really going on at home. I didnt want to let my distractions go. As long as they were there I didnt have to focus on anything else. But the one day I finally told someone was one day Ill never forget.
I was out of breath as I got to school. Running to school really was a good thing. I put my bag near the classroom and went to get a sip of water from the bubblers. I leant down and took the tiniest sip. As I stood up straight I started to feel dizzy. I just ignored it and walked over to the steps. I was about to go down them when I heard someone calling my name. I turned around and felt like I falling backwards. I quickly grabbed hold of the rail to stop me from falling. Coming towards me was the school counsellor. A million thoughts raced through my head. I wondered what he wanted. He took me to his office and I sat in a chair opposite him. He looked me in the eye and asked How much more are you planning to lose?
That was the question. The question that really made me think. It was a question that brought more questions it made me wonder how he knew. This was supposed to be my secret. What if other people knew? How many other people knew? Who else knew? No one was supposed to know. It also made me wonder if I had lost enough. If I was still fat. If I had lost too much.
That was when that I realised that no matter how much I would lose it would never be enough. I would never achieve perfection. Never be that magic number on the scales. I would never be happy with the number. No matter how low it would get id never be happy with it. And Id never get control from a number that would just keep going lower.
It was then that I realised that those friends of mine maybe werent friends at all. It was then that I realised I had to eat. I had to stop throwing up. I had to stop cutting. None of it was getting me anywhere. Well, it was getting me somewhere; but that somewhere was the hospital.
As I see it, the thing to getting better is to take things slowly. Just one day at a time. There will be downs but there will also be ups. Nothing will happen overnight. It will take a long time but I just got to take it one day at a time.
Its been 64 days since Si left. 57 days since Mia left. Dee comes and goes. There are some days with her and some days without her. Ana is still here though. She still tells me lies. I try not to believe her. Its hard not to. But I have realised that they certainly arent the best games to play. Im ready now to stop playing them.
tell me what you guyz think...honestly!
